Merely I’m sorry. I’m just a man. I don’t know what I represent to you or anybody else. I only know who I am and who I’m not, what I’ve done and what I haven’t. I’m not trying to steal air or drink water or take space that was meant for you. I’m not looking […]
In episode three of the podcast I revisit some acting low points in my life before embarking on a discussion of clowns and their role in the formation of my acting identity. I argue that there is something clowns can teach us about living more honestly and happily. Along the way, I get to touch
Am I a clown or an idiot, or both? – Episode 03 Read More »
As previously mentioned, I have been prepping a podcast off-shoot for The ClearOut, and I am delighted to present the pilot episode here for your listening pleasure. The podcast continues in the vein of the material I have presented here since 2013, but it is going to be a bit looser, a bit more informal,
What the hell are we listening to? The pilot episode! – Episode 01 Read More »
There’s no two ways about it. I’m in a spot, and I’m not enjoying it. I am experiencing a moment of paralysis in my life. I find myself afraid to breathe and afraid to move for fear of breaking. My anxiety and dread sit between my shoulders at the top of my spine like an
Fear, anxiety, and fighting back Read More »
My daughter is doing her absolute best to send me to an institution. She revels in breaking my concentration, in pulling my focus, in distracting me in any way she can from whatever task I am feebly trying to complete. Even though she runs the risk of being on the receiving end of an apoplectic
Terms and conditions apply Read More »
Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise (Daniel 12:1) In a crisis, I look to myself. It is rarely my first instinct to seek help or counsel elsewhere. I partly do this because I have a certain amount of faith in my own resources, and I partly do it because I
I had hoped not to end up writing about the pandemic, but like the damn thing itself, it has become unavoidable. Apart from those whose occupations entail meeting the Coronavirus head on, life is being lived in low gear and in a minor key. We are in a permanent state of crouch, feeling the weight
Shuffle. Shimmy. Shake. The external is merely a dance. It’s the dance we do to get off the dance floor. You know the one – you have to get to a point on the other side of the room, but the dance floor full of maniacally enthused glitterbugs is unavoidably en route, and because you
I Can Dance, But I Don’t Want To Read More »
The air is polluted and it is unsafe to be outside. What looks like early morning mist is in fact a deathly haze of smoke blown west from the bushfire-ravaged eastern state. I have foregone my morning swim and cycle to work in deference to the ominous atmosphere that has dropped an unloving cloud of
I swam in horrible conditions the other day. It was not long after dawn on a mucky Monday morning and big, unpredictable swell, with huge surges of cold, dirty water, was moving me around like so much flotsam. I tried to use my usual landmarks to keep my bearings while at the same time avoiding
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